


Turn The Beat Around

by n3bu14



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Armin Arlert - Freeform, Eren Yeager - Freeform, Gay Lovers, I don't know what else to tag, I think i'll throw Levi somewhere in here too eventually, Implied Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager, M/M, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein - Freeform, POV Marco Bott, Punk Jean Kirstein, So many tags, Underage Drinking, actually Marco's gonna be bi, and connie and sasha, bc i love them, but this is only the first chapter, but together they're gay, i need to stop, idk it might not be so implied in the later chapters who knows, jean kirstein - Freeform, marco bott - Freeform, mikasa ackerman - Freeform, theyll probs frick frack in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:21:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n3bu14/pseuds/n3bu14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jean Kirstein plays the drums and Marco likes peace and quiet while he studies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beating Cliches Into the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first Jean/Marco fic please go easy on me. I take a lot of time to write, so when (yes, WHEN) this continues, please be patient. Also, feel free to point out typos/awkward writing/anything you think might improve my story, but also be nice about it. Everyone loves a decent human being!

* * *

 

               Meeting Jean Kirstein happened in the most cliché way possible. I was on my way back to my dorm after checking out some books from the campus library. I had this stack of four or five novels in front of me, so I couldn’t really see. Add the fact that I was still sticking to the campus map so I wouldn’t get lost and… Well, you can imagine what happened next.

                In a whirl wind of books, limbs, and a beanie, I crashed into the biggest asshole I’d ever met. Groaning, I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I glanced up to see a kid who looked about my age untangling his legs from mine. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a band I’d never heard of on the front. His faded red skinny jeans had some tears here and there, and his feet were clad in a pair of all-stars. He picked up the red beanie he’d lost in the fall and scowled down at me with piercing amber eyes.

                “Watch where you’re going, nerd,” he said, before walking away. _Wow, how insulting_ , I thought sarcastically. This person looked like he caused a lot of trouble, had the worst manners in the world, and in general looked like he hated everyone and thing.

                I instantly fell in love.

                And, before you jump to your own conclusions and call him a disrespecting dickhead (which, you’d totally be right in doing), let me describe what I’d looked like at the time.

                That morning had been difficult. My mom had come home from the mall the previous night with a bag from Calvin Klein that literally had my name on it. Inside was the most disgusting sweater I’d ever seen. It was “yellow rose” and had a “sky blue” and “mint green” argyle pattern on the front. In addition to the sweater, there was a pair of accompanying “robin’s egg” shorts that went above my knees and rolled up at the hem. And my mother fully expected me to wear the two articles as an outfit. On top of that, I’d ripped one of my contacts that morning, so I’d had to go with my rimless, rectangular glasses. I wouldn’t be getting new contacts until the next month. Which was exactly 27 and a half days away. Not to mention that my mom had insisted that I comb my hair down the middle. She was sooooo proud of her “wittle bitty baby all grown up and going to college, oh where did the time go.”

                So yes, I looked like a “nerd.” Not that I throw people into boxes upon sight like a certain punk I’d crashed into. Add on the pile of books I was carrying. Definitely a nerd. But back to the story:

                “I’m sorry,” I said to him, but he was already gone. I picked up my books and my map and worked my way back to the dorm I was staying in. My roommates, who had been out to lunch while I was at the library, had returned with leftovers.

                “Hey Armin!” I called in the direction of his room. “Is it okay if I eat this?”

                “Yeah, sure,” Armin came out of his room. I use the word ‘room’ very loosely. They were 8-by-12 foot boxes with a desk, wardrobe, and twin size bed. But hey, I wasn’t complaining. They were actually really nice. “We actually brought it back with you in mind. Figured you hadn’t eaten, since the no-eating-in-the-library rule is a thing.”

                “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” We were all still in the stage of pleasantries, which meant pleases and thank you’s, asking permission, and not complaining about how a certain roommate had already managed to make a pig sty out of his room.

                “Is that you Jean?” Eren called from his room. Speak of the devil…

                “Yeah, I just got back from the library,” I hollered back. “Thanks for the food!”

                “Hey Marco, where’d you get that bruise?” Armin asked, pointing to my knee.

                “Oh, that’s probably from my fall,” I said.

                “Your fall…?”

                “Yeah, I was on my way back from the library and I bumped into this kid and the books went flying everywhere…” I explained. “It happened like it was straight out of a movie.”

                “Who was the other person? Did they get hurt?” Trust Armin to worry about the other person…

                “Yeah, he was fine,” I said. “Picked up his stupid red beanie, told me to what where I was going, called me a nerd… he walked away unscathed, alright.”

                “Red beanie?” Eren walked out of his room. “Did he have dirty blonde hair and an undercut?”

                “Yeah... I think so,” I tried to think back. “Why? You know him?”

                “Absolutely,” Eren glared into the distance. “Biggest shit head you’ll ever meet.”

                “Does this shit head have a name?” I asked.

                “Well, Eren likes to call him ‘horse face’ but his real name is Jean Kirstein,” Armin explained. “Jean can certainly be… difficult.” Eren snorted.

                “ _Difficult_ is the understatement of the century,” he claimed. “We went to school with him for like all of middle and high school. He had the biggest crush on my sister, Mikasa.”

                “Hm,” to be honest, I didn’t really care about any of this, but I made a humming noise to confirm that I’d heard Eren talking.

                “Yeah, he was obsessed with her hair or something,” Eren said. I started to space out. Blah blah blah marry Mikasa, blah blah blah Mikasa punching Jean in the face, blah blah blah. I started to think about the books I’d checked out, the food I had yet to eat, how incredible Jean’s butt had looked in those jeans…

                “Yo, Marco,” Eren waved a hand in front of my face. “You still with us?”

                “Yeah, sorry,” I snapped back to reality. “I’m gonna start one of the books I got. Thanks, again, for the food.” I walked into my room and shut the door before Eren could say anything else. Man, that kid could talk a lot.

                Once in the privacy of my room, I could reflect on the last 15 minutes peacefully. Great, I thought, I fell in love with the guy my roommates hate. _Calm down, Marco_ , I told myself. _You don’t know anything about him, other than what Eren and Armin said_. This in mind, I probably wouldn’t get to know anything else about him. Trost University was huge and I probably wouldn’t bump into him again.


	2. Hitting On Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and company go to a football game, and Jean's part of the drum line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo, so much for following my big resolve of adding a chapter per week.... But now writing as become a form of procrastination for school. Yay? Please give me feedback, and point out any errors I've made. Tbh I don't edit these things very thoroughly, so there are probs lots of mistakes. Thanks for reading and maybe sticking with the story even though there are only two chapters now? ily

                I’m sad to say that I couldn’t have been more wrong. That following Friday was the first home football game for the Trost Titans. Back in high school, I’d gone to ever single game. I didn’t miss one football game in four years. I sort of wanted to keep up that streak, but my classes were proving to be a challenge (nothing I couldn’t handle), so I’d settled for going to every single home game. The stadium was nicer than the one at my high school. This one had full bleachers and covers for both sides, and scoreboards at either end. The only disappointment was that the bathrooms were as dirty and disgusting as any other public restroom.

                I’d gone to the game with Armin, Eren, and two other friends I had made that week named Connie and Sasha. I thought that maybe Connie and Sasha were dating, but I couldn’t really tell, and I was too embarrassed to ask in case I might be wrong. You know how it is with creating that awkward sexual tension between two friends… Anyway, for the most part, the game wasn’t very exciting. The first half, no one scored, the marching band played during the short timeouts, and people cheered for no reason. Then, in the final minute of the second quarter, Trost scored a touchdown and took the field goal. It wasn’t much, but it was bound to set the game in motion.

                But now it was halftime and the marching band was down on the field with their instruments and silly hats and plumes. People might make fun of them for being “band geeks”, but they could certainly put on a good field show. When they were finished, Connie and Sasha turned to Armin, Eren, and me.

                “We’re going to the concessions stand for some kettle corn, anyone wanna come?” Sasha said. Eren and Armin both shook their heads.

                “I’ll come,” I offered. Gotta enforce friendship somehow.

                We walked down the loud chrome bleachers onto the cement sidewalk. The marching band was making its way back up into their section of the bleachers, so we had to weave in and out of them. Suddenly, I felt a sharp, intense pain on my hip as something solid and metal collided with it. I turned my head to see Jean Kirstein wearing a snare drum and a scowl.

                “Watch where you’re walkin,” he said. “I’ve got a snare.”

                “Doesn’t mean you own the sidewalk,” I retorted. I didn’t want to be nice about this for once. Second time in a week that he’d knocked into me and treated it like it was completely my fault. I could already feel a serious bruise forming.

                “Don’t I know you?” Jean asked, narrowing his eyes.

                “Yeah, you bowled me over a few days ago,” I told him, standing up to accentuate my height and obvious strength. Then I added sarcastically, “I was carrying a stack of books, which I guess entitled me to the entire hallway.”

                “Dude, calm down,” he said. Jeans eyes widened and I was able to appreciate the beautiful amber color. Then I remembered that I was angry, the victim, hurt, and he was trying to blame it on me.

                “Just watch where you’re walkin,” turning to walk away, I said, “You’ve got a snare, and that’s a lot harder than a human. You’re gonna hurt someone if you slam them with that.”

                “Hey, sorry man,” Jean called out. _Not so brave against a taller, musclier guy_ , I thought. I silently thanked my inexplicable love for cardio.

                “What was that all about?” Connie asked.

                “Nothing important,” I brushed it off. I wasn’t really that mad, but sometimes it paid to act angrier than I felt. I filled Connie and Sasha in on what little background history I had with Jean.

                “Eh, sounds a lot like him,” Sasha offered. “We went to high school together. He was always sort of grumpy.”

                “Except for when he was in a relationship,” Connie added.

                “Yeah, when he had a boyfriend he was just peachy,” Sasha agreed.

                “Boyfriend?” I asked.

                “Yeah, I mean he doesn’t flaunt it or anything,” Sasha lowered her voice. “But he’s a flaming homosexual.” Connie nodded, and my heart skipped a beat.

                “Huh,” was all I could get out.

* * *

 

                We bought our kettle corn and made it back to the bleachers without any other incidents. From the our spot in the stands, I could see Jean and the rest of the drum line in front of the student section playing popular cadences while the rest of the marching band had their third quarter off. I’d always liked the drumlin. I wasn’t sure how they functioned at other schools, but at my old high school and here at Trost, they didn’t get a break during the third quarter like the wind section did. They worked really hard behind the scenes to make all their drum breaks sound just right.

                Even from here, I could see the sweat glistening on Jean’s forehead, trailing down his temples. He had a mixed look of complete concentration and extreme ease. I could tell this was something he enjoyed. Jean didn’t just go around hating everything all the time except for when he had a boyfriend, like everyone claimed. I focused on his eyes, which were noticeably bright in the artificial light of the stadium.

                My serene moment of admiration ended when Jean’s eyes met mine and I had to avert eye contact like I hadn’t just been staring at him. I glanced back a second later and saw that his eyes were still on me. I could feel my face heating up. My eyes fluttered to the ground, then back at Jean, and I saw him smirk. He had the nerve to smirk?! _What a tool…_

                “Marco, you alright?” Eren asked. “Your face is all red.”

                “Are you heating up? Do you have a fever?” Armin automatically started to doctor me.

                “Guys, chill out,” I said, trying to chill myself out. “I’m fine.” I took a few deep breaths, hoping to regulate my blushing. It seemed to work because the guys stopped bugging me about it after a few seconds.

                By the end of the third quarter, we were up 21-0. Not much of a nail biter. Still, it shocked the opposing team into being more defensive, so the score stayed that way until the end of the game. Not the most entertaining of games, but I was glad that there wasn’t any anxiety in knowing who would win. Eren, Armin, Sasha, Connie, and I made our way through the crowd, trying to make it out into the parking lot. I stopped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

                I looked down at the long slender fingers curled around my shoulder. My eyes followed along the wrist, up to the elbow, up to their shoulder, and finally to the head that was connected to the arm. And it was Jean fucking Kirstein.

                “Enjoying the view?” He asked, a smirk in place.

                “Get over yourself, man,” I told him. Although that smirk was something to behold…

                “Hey, I’m just calling things as I see them,” Jean told me, putting both hands up in an act of innocence.

                “You must be blind then,” Eren interrupted. “Cuz Marco’s definitely into girls. Right?”

                “Wrong,” I mumbled. _Oh god_ , I thought, _what a fan-fucking-tastic way to come out to all my new friends… did not plan on it being this way_. I was silently dying.

                “Yeah, see horse face?” Eren jeered.

                “Hey, Eren,” Armin leaned in to whisper in Eren’s ear what he’d obviously caught, but Eren hadn’t.

                “Well that’s just great!” Eren exclaimed sarcastically. “You ruined my comeback, brah.”

                “Sorry?” I said.

                “Well that’s just great!” Jean exclaimed not-sarcastically. “You can go on a date with me!”

                “Sorry,” I told him. “Being gay doesn’t mean I’ll go out with someone as conceited as you.”

                Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Marco, didn’t you say you liked this guy?” And yes, I did. But when all that pressure is on you, sometimes you tend to do the opposite of what everyone expects. And so I went and rejected Jean’s offer and destroyed Eren’s comeback. As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, Sasha decided that her stomach couldn’t hold all the food she’d eaten and threw up, causing a formidable distraction for us all. We split from that area like assholes and left the mess for the custodian. And to be honest, I was glad. All the attention was instantly off me and onto Sasha.

* * *

 

                Later that night, Armin came into my room with a look that said “we need to talk.” I sighed. _Here it comes, Marco, here’s where you find out which, if not both, of your roommates are homophobic._

“Hey Marco?” Armin asked timidly.

                “Yeah?”

                “Eren and I don’t care if you’re into men.” I looked up at Armin.

                “That’s a relief,” I said, exhaling heavily.

                “I bet,” Armin said with a smile. “Eren thought it would go without saying, but I told him we should make it clear to you.”

                “As is Eren’s way with communication,” I said.

                “But,” Armin said with a slightly more serious tone. “Did you really want to turn down Jean?”

                I sighed again.

                “Maybe you should think about his offer,” Armin suggested. “Personally, everyone thinks Jean is more likeable when he’s in love.”

                “Whoa. Hold it right there,” I said, throwing my hands up in front of me. “Who said anything about love?”

                “No one,” he said. “It’s just a word at this point.”

                I looked at him, skeptical. Armin never uses “just a word.” He smiled bigger.

                “But who knows?” Armin said. “Maybe you will fall in love with Jean Kirstein.” And with that, he walked out of my room, leaving me with my thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo, so much for following my big resolve of adding a chapter per week.... But now writing as become a form of procrastination for school. Yay? Please give me feedback, and point out any errors I've made. Tbh I don't edit these things very thoroughly, so there are probs lots of mistakes. Thanks for reading and maybe sticking with the story even though there are only two chapters now? ily


	3. Skipping a Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco goes on a date with a girl? Jean is sad? Mikasa is brought into the story?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist: Kt S00 writes more than one chapter in a week. Sort of got out of a block, but can't really find what to do with all the creativity, so I'm just sort of spouting out nonsense into this story. Please let me know what you think, what I could improve on, what typos I made, etc. Thanks for the love <3

               

* * *

                The following week was pretty busy. Teachers were starting to increase their workload and the difficulty in lessons was rising. I’d always been pretty good in a classroom setting, but college was pretty fucking difficult. But the teachers were actually quite accommodating. They weren’t anywhere near as horrifying as high school teachers made them out to be. If anything, college professors were better than high school teachers. The change in scenery was awesome too. The Trost campus was incredible. It wasn’t the biggest campus I’d seen, but it was certainly the prettiest. Apparently there was a garden club that conspired with the landscapers, and I’d heard that the architecture classes actually got to help out with designing the buildings. I was sort of skeptical of that last one, but according to Armin, they at least got to look at the blueprints for certain buildings on campus.

                My favorite class by far was AP Bio Med. Prof. Levi was kind of brutal. His lessons were my hardest, and certainly keeping me on my toes. But from what I’d heard from other kids, he didn’t like to fail anyone, so he worked pretty hard himself trying to find a way to get everyone to pass. Even though it was my most difficult class, it was also my favorite subject, so that evened it out. The only people I knew were Armin and Eren’s sister Mikasa. I didn’t really try to understand how Eren and Mikasa were related, (they looked nothing alike) but Mikasa was fiercely protective of Eren, and even though he wouldn’t admit it, Eren cared a lot for Mikasa.

                It was on Wednesday that Mikasa turned to me near the end of class and embarrassingly asked if I’d like to go get coffee with her when the forty-five minute period had ended.

                “Wi-with me?” I stuttered. I could feel my ears heating up. Mikasa was incredibly attractive, and just about every straight guy wanted to get with her, but she’d only ever been focused on Eren. Her offer certainly surprised me.

                “Yes,” Mikasa said shortly. She brought her eyes up from the ground to meet mine.

                “I mean, yeah,” I tried to collect my thoughts and focus. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

                “Okay.”

                And with that, we turned our attention back to Professor Levi for the next fifteen minutes.

* * *

 

                Once class had ended, Mikasa and I walked out of the room without saying anything to each other. I mean, we both knew what the plan was, but it was just so… awkward. Walking down the hallway next to each other but not talking wasn’t really a good start to the date. And then I saw Jean walking towards me.

                I reached for Mikasa’s hand, hoping that the sign of affection would deter him. Mikasa stiffened slightly, but she didn’t fight it thankfully. But not-thankfully, it didn’t stop Jean. My heart skipped as he got closer. _I can’t deal with his hotness today_ , I internally groaned.

                “Hey, Marco is it?” Jean asked, the same conceited smirk on his face.

                “Yeah,” I said, glaring at him slightly. Jean looked down at my hand holding Mikasa’s.

                “I thought you said you were into dudes,” he said with less confidence. His stupid smirk fell a little.

                “I am.”

                “So what’s this?” Jean motioned to the hand-holding and cocked an eyebrow. _God, he would be the death of me_ , I thought. _Him and his stupid facial expressions_.

                “So what’s it to you?” I couldn’t find a reason for being so defensive against him. He hadn’t _really_ done anything wrong, other than being an asshole.

                “Chill, man, it’s just a question.”

                “Ever heard of being bi?” I asked. Pulling Mikasa along with me, I pushed passed Jean and walked down the hallway. I turned my head back to see him watching us retreat, his shoulders slightly slumped and eyebrows furrowed.

* * *

 

                As it turns out, Mikasa is actually great company to be with. She had excellent social skills, academic skills, story-telling skills, fighting skills, you name it. The only problem? She talked about Eren 24/7. Now, I can understand sibling love, but Mikasa seemed borderline obsessed. And after an hour of hearing her tell me stories about Eren, I decided to say something.

                “So, you and Eren are close then?” I asked carefully.

                “Yeah,” Mikasa said with a sigh.

                “You seem to have a lot of stories about him.”

                “I do.”

                “What about other friends?”

                “There’s Armin,” Mikasa said. “And Annie.”

                “Is that it?”

                “I have a close friend group,” she defended herself.

                “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that,” I told her. Heck, I’d had a small group of friends in high school. Mikasa didn’t reply. “But, I don’t know, maybe you want to put yourself out there more.”

                “I know,” she sighed again. “That’s what this date was supposed to be.”

                “Yeah?”

                “Yeah, but mostly because Eren pressured me into it,” Mikasa explained. “I guess he was as fed up as you are about it, only he wasn’t as nice in pointing it out.”

                “Well, being nice is my specialty,” I said with a small smile.

                “You didn’t seem very nice to Jean earlier,” she raised an eyebrow at me, like Jean had done, but I found that it wasn’t quite as sexy on Mikasa as it was on Jean.

                “He deserved it,” I said.

                “No one deserves Marco Bott being mean to them,” Mikasa said. Now I couldn’t find a reply. “He seemed to like you.” I looked down at my empty coffee cup. Mikasa kept talking. “And it seemed like you didn’t want to be mean to him.”

                “You’re the one who asked me on a date because their brother forced them to,” I said sharply. She didn’t even flinch.

                “So maybe we should only date people we really like,” Mikasa said gently. She placed a hand over mine.

                “I don’t like Jean,” I denied.

                “I never said that.”

                “You implied it.”

                “So what if I did? I could take you down with my hands tied behind my back.”

                “I wasn’t planning on fighting you,” I said, putting my hands up in surrender.

                “Good,” Mikasa smiled. “Now how about we go find people we actually want to date.”

                “Sounds like a plan,” I smiled back at her.

               


	4. Party imPulses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah for college parties!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comb through this chapter carefully please! I had an alternate ending in mind, but it wasn't working out, so I had to change it. But if there's anything that doesn't flow, or seems out of place near the end, please please please tell me! Thank you for reading and staying with the story so far. Please leave comments on what you thought of the plot, what I can improve on, etc. ^u^

               

* * *

                The Friday after my date with Mikasa was another home football game. This meant that the Trost marching band and drum line would be there. I really didn’t want to bump into Jean. I couldn’t tell you why. I found him incredibly attractive with his amber eyes and sandy blonde/ashy brown hair style. And the facial expressions he would make were so adorable that I’d have to hold my breath so I wouldn’t sell myself out. I’m not even gonna mention his long, lean body or the abs I’m sure were there. Whenever I started thinking about Jean, my face would go red. Eren would always ask if I was getting sick, and Armin would give me a concerned look and then share a skeptical, knowing stare with Mikasa, who would return it. My (smart) friends were catching on. And it sucked.

                But this Friday was different because Bert and Reiner were throwing a party after the game. Reiner and Bert were the only two (openly) gay football players at Trost, and they were both good enough at the sport that no one gave them any crap. They were well liked too, so if you messed with them, you basically messed with the entire football team. As if Reiner and Bert weren’t bad enough. Well, to be real, no one messed with Bert because everyone liked him, despite his chronic sweating patterns. Reiner wasn’t messed with because he’d punch your face in. They were both in my horticulture class, which was how we’d met and how I’d gotten invited to a party.

                This brought us to the present, where Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Connie, Sasha, and I were up in the stands at the football game. We were leading by thirty-five points, so no one was really paying attention to the game. It was only the second quarter. With two and a half minutes on the clock, the band and drum line started to file out of their designated section of the bleachers, down onto the sidewalk, and lined up on the field ready to go. I scanned the crowd of musicians for Jean. I spotted him near the front of the double lines. I tried to discreetly stare at him, but that doesn’t really work in real life.

                “Hey, Marco,” Connie leaned towards me. “Jean’s in my precalc class.”

                “Yeah?” I tried to sound disinterested.

                “He asked about you,” Connie lowered his voice. I appreciated his tactfulness, which never appeared to rub off on Sasha, who I’d found out was indeed his girlfriend.

                “What’d he ask?”

                “Not much,” Connie shrugged his shoulders. “Asked how we met, if you were single, where you were from. The usual.”

                “Usual?” I snorted. “Stalking isn’t normal.”

                “Hey, cut him some slack. Jean might be an asshole, but that’s only because he doesn’t know how to have normal human relationships.”

                “I don’t want to be in a relationship with him,” I deadpanned.

                “No, I meant in general,” Connie back tracked. “He has difficulty making friends, keeping friends when he has them, expressing his feelings, communicating. All the things ‘social’ people have.”

                “Why are you telling me this, Con?” I sighed.

                “I’m just sayin’ maybe you want to try to get to know Jean,” he said before resuming his natural state, which was standing up and yelling at the refs for the bad calls they were making. The referees really weren’t making any bad calls against us. I don’t know why Connie was yelling.

                I looked back down at Jean. And of course he _had_ to look at me just then. He raised an eyebrow as if to say _whatcha lookin’ at_ as if he didn’t know what I was looking at.

                The Trost Titans ended up completely demolishing the other team. With a final score of 84-6, Trost uni fans flooded out of the stadium with content hearts and satisfied minds. We all waited for Reiner and Bert to get out of the changing rooms. It didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I’d assumed they’d wait for everyone to clear out and then have a make out session or something. But after about five-seven minutes of waiting, we saw them appear in the doorway hand-in-hand.

                “Dude, guys, that was a great game!” Eren said, leading the group over to them.

                “Thanks for coming,” Reiner said loudly. His voice was louder than most voices, which usually led to teachers shushing him during class.

                “Not like you needed the support,” Connie said, giving them both a high five.

                “Yeah, well now it’s time to PARTAYYYY,” Reiner yelled. Bert stood there quietly, looking embarrassed. Then his attention focused on something past our group.

                “Hey, Jean!” Bert called. “Are you coming tonight?”

                We all turned around to see Jean and a few other snare drummers walking past. Jean stopped, looking at all of us. His eyes settled on me and his mouth set into a hard line.

                “I don’t know,” Jean trailed off. “I’ve still got some homework to do…”

                “Aw, come on Jean,” Reiner complained. “You have all weekend to finish that.”

                “Reiner, you _know_ that if I show up at one of your parties, I’m gonna be incapacitated for 90% of tomorrow.”

                “Exactly,” Reiner looked proud of his logic. Not that it was actually logic. “So you’ll be there?”

                “Yeah, sure,” Jean rolled his eyes, smiling. _Wow, that smile…_ it wasn’t like his usual cocky half-smile. It was incredible.

                “Great! See you there,” Bert said, giving Jean a wave as he walked away from us.

                “Great..” I groaned. This meant that I’d have to refrain from drinking tonight. None of my new friends here knew what a drunk me was like. But friends back home had told me more than once that I could get pretty… affectionate when I was drunk (to put it nicely. Horny would work pretty well, too). Not that I ever remembered it. And since I’ve never woken up in a bed with a stranger, I assumed I wasn’t that bad. But to be honest, at parties with alcohol, I’d either stay completely sober or I’d get completely wasted.

               

* * *

               With a promise of Armin being the designated driver, Eren, Connie, Sasha, and I piled out of Armin’s mom-van while he went to go park among the plethora of cars already there. Hopefully we wouldn’t get parked in. We all walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell, and unsurprisingly no one came to the door. I doubted anyone could hear the ringing because of the ear-shatteringly loud music. When no one answered, we walked around the side of the house into the back yard. There were already twenty to thirty people there, and about half of them were from the football team. The other half was comprised of random school-going people like me that had managed to become friends with Bert and Reiner. Speak of the devils…

                “Guys! I’m so glad you made it!” Reiner hobbled over to us. He certainly wasn’t _drunk_ yet, but he was getting there. Bert was just behind him, obviously still very sober.

                “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Reiner,” Sasha said. Then she took Connie by the wrist and led him into the kitchen, where there was no doubt free food.

                “Cool, so the only rule is to throw you trash away,” Reiner told Eren and me. The rule didn’t look like it was heavily enforced though. After blabbing about how much work they had to do to clean up after all their parties, I split off in hopes of finding Armin.

                He wasn’t difficult to find. Armin was sitting on the living room couch next to a disinterested looking girl with blonde hair and a brown leather jacket. I sat down next to him and sighed.

                “Something wrong?” Armin asked.

                “Nah,” I said distractedly. “I just don’t like parties all that much.”

                “Join the club. I’m only here for when Eren and Jean get in a fight.”

                “Does that happen often?” I asked, looking over at him.

                “Pretty much whenever they get drunk. If one of them is sober, it’s easier. But if they’re both drunk, they have to be torn apart,” Armin shook his head in slight disgust.

                “Well, that’s just great,” I sighed again. I didn’t want to deal with a drunk Jean or a drunk Eren, but if there was a combo attack of them, I don’t know what I’d do.

                “Oh, well I forgot to introduce you to Annie,” Armin said, changing the subject.

                “I’m Marco, it’s nice to meet you,” I said, extending a hand.

                “Same,” was all Annie said, but she had a solid hand shake.

                We all fell into a comfortable silence until Eren walked up to us. He had two beers in each hand.

                “Eren, please tell me you don’t plan on drinking all of that,” Armin begged.

                “Relax, only two of these are for me,” Eren replied. He handed one of the extra beers to me and the other to Annie. I just held onto it for a minute, feeling the cold condensation dripping onto my hand. Eren raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Do you drink?”

                “Sometimes,” I told him. “Apparently it’s not pretty when I’m drunk.”

                “Well, hey, you wouldn’t be the only one,” Eren cracked a smile. He took the beer from me, popped the top off, and handed it back. “You only get a football score of 84-6 once.” He said, clinking his bottle against mine.

                “Cheers,” I said before taking a long gulp.

               

* * *

                Four beers later (at least, I think it was four. I’d sort of lost count), I was comfortably sitting too close to Armin and over disclosing lots of information about myself that I’m sure sober me wouldn’t appreciate drunk me telling him. I had an arm about his shoulders and was telling him about the time when I was five and a cat scratched me so hard that I needed three stitches. I felt someone sit down next to me.

                “Didn’t know you were a drinking type,” Jean leaned in close and spoke with a lowered voice.

                “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I said, taking my arm back from Armin’s shoulders.

                “Oh yeah?”

                “Mhmm.”

                “Enlighten me,” Jean said raising both eyebrows slightly. _God damn he’s so hot_ , I thought. Then, _no, you don’t like him, remember Marco? Don’t get any ideas._ But drunken me wasn’t quite as smart. I leaned in closer until our noses were almost touching.

                “Make me,” I said, so softly that I almost didn’t hear myself.

                “Don’t tell me what to do,” Jean said. I was surprised I could hear him over the music.

                “I’ll do whatever I want,” my breath was mingling with his, and the smell of alcohol was strong. I snaked my arm around Jean’s waist. He looked mildly surprised before relaxing into me. “I said _make me_.”

                And by fuck’s name, he did. Leaning in, Jean closed the space between our lips. His lips were warm and I could taste the beer on them. I opened my mouth slightly, wanting more of him, and _goddamn what are you doing Marco?!_ I thought to myself. Pushing him away from me, I stood up unsteadily.

                 “Oh my god, Jean,” I whispered. And then I heard a throat clear next to me. I turned to see a livid Eren holding two beer bottles, one of them completely empty, and the other half empty.

                “Jean, what the hell?!” Eren half-yelled.

                “Dude, what?” Jean asked angrily.          

“Quit taking advantage of a drunken Marco!”

                “Brah, we’re both drunk, it’s not just Marco.”

                “That’s not an excuse,” Eren said.

                “Dude, chill out, he started it,” Jean said. It was true, if creating sexual tension is “starting it.”

                “I don’t believe you,” Eren said, narrowing his bright green eyes. Jean stood up.

                “You got a problem with my taste in men?”

                “I’ve got a problem with you sexually harassing an innocent, drunk roommate of mine!”

                “Hey, fuck off man, it’s none of your business,” Jean turned away from Eren. With his back turned, Jean failed to notice Eren flying at him. His fist connected with Jean’s cheek. _Oh god… why me?!_

                Quick as lightning, Armin was to the rescue. He pulled Eren back, locking his hands around Eren in a steely manmade straight jacket. Unfortunately, Jean was ready for the fight and brought his own clenched hand to Eren’s face. I silently asked whatever deities were listening _why me_ again, then grabbed Jean’s offensive arm with one hand and his other arm with my other hand and held them behind his back. I forced his head to turn, creating eye contact. Giving him my best evil eye glare, I let go with one hand and smacked him across the face. The entire room went silent.

                “I know we’re all drunk, and none of us will remember this in the morning except for maybe Armin,” I took a deep breath. “But let’s set the CD straight.”

                “Um, Marco?” Armin said quietly. “Do you mean ‘set the _record_ straight’?”

                “Yeah, that,” I continued. “I created mild sexual tension, which caused Jean to kiss me, which made Eren mad enough to punch Jean in the face, which forced Armin and me to stop a fight, which ended in me slapping Jean across the face.”

                “You literally said all the events that just happened,” Annie deadpanned.

                “That’s okay,” I said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do believe I’m about to throw up.”


	5. Sandwich Slamming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco goes to the gym, Armin has a sandwich, and there is lots of dialogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah wow it's been a decent amount of time since I last wrote a chapter. I have three big assignments due soon, so of course, I decided to procrastinate. Now I'm stressed out, but that's okay because fanfiction ^u^ please leave reviews and stuff, I'd love to hear from you!

                I was lucky when I woke up the next day. I only had a minor headache and my eyes were able to focus on an object in less than a second. I’d had worse. But I certainly couldn’t remember anything. Well, not anything. I remembered calmly walking to Reiner and Bert’s bathroom, politely knocking on the closed door, and waiting for it to open. I remembered the harassed looking couple who exited quickly, holding hands. I remembered shutting the door quietly before all hell broke loose. And by hell, I mean the contents of my stomach. But it was okay; I didn’t have long hair to worry about, and I fortunately aimed at the toilet bowl. When it was all finished, I’d gone to the sink, wiped the small beads of sweat off my forehead and rinsed the puke away from my lips, swigged several mouthfuls of water, and left.

                I guess I’d walked home though, judging from the texts that I hadn’t bothered to look at last night.

**1:57 AM From: Armin**

_Marco? You okay in there?_

**2:13 AM From: Armin**

_Did you just leave?_

**3:00 AM From: Armin**

_Where are you, Marco? We want to leave pretty soon. Eren is pretty darn wasted._

**3:05 AM From: Armin**

_Marco??_

**3:30 AM From: Armin**

_Did you go home?_

**3:45 AM From: Armin**

_We’re on our way home, if you’re there…_

                I groaned and sat up in bed. Trying to remember everything from last night was difficult. The whitewashed walls weren’t offering any help, so I figured Armin would know. Since, ya know, he was the only sober one. I flipped the sheets off my legs and threw on some sweats. I put some fuzzy socks on too; the weather got colder earlier in the year here in Trost. The smell of pancakes wafted into my nostrils the minute I stepped out of my room.

                “Armin?” I turned into the kitchen and saw Eren, not Armin. “Oh, hey, Eren. Thought you were Armin.”

                “Because he’s the only one who can cook around here?” Eren asked, eyes narrowing.

                “Well, yeah, I’ve never seen you cook,” I put my hands up in surrender. “It was a reasonable assumption that Armin was in here.”

                “Humph,” Eren turned back to the frying pan. I guess his hangover was a bit worse than mine. “Pancakes are my specialty.”

                “Are there any to share?” I asked hopefully. Eren glanced in my direction, obviously disgusted in my _hope_. I put on my best puppy dog eyes.

                “Yeah, fine,” he rolled his eyes and sighed. _The puppy dog eyes never fail_ , I thought.

               

* * *

                After a substantial breakfast of blueberry pancakes with peanut butter, Nutella, whipped cream, and sprinkles, I went to the university gym. My dad had gotten me a membership there as a college present, and I had yet to use it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to or didn’t like to work out, I just didn’t know how to use any of the equipment to my advantage. Like great, I can do a pull-up, now how do I get swoll?

                I walked through the double doors only to be ambushed by Bert and Reiner. Well, mostly Reiner. I was in a headlock being noogied. And my hair didn’t like being noogied.

                “Bruhhh,” Reiner yelled in my ear. “Who knew Marco worked out?!”

                “Geez, calm down,” I said, disentangling myself from him.

                “Sorry,” Reiner said. “Do you work out after hangovers too?”

                “What? No,” I looked at Reiner like he was crazy. “Who does that? Like 100% hangovers include headaches.”

                “Yeah,” Reiner just kept smiling. I had the feeling he didn’t get it.

                “Reiner believes if he works out while in pain, it’ll make him more muscular,” Bert cut in.

                “That makes absolutely no sense,” I shook my head in confusion. These fucking goofballs…

                “So what brings you here?” Bert asked me.

                “My dad bought me a membership, and I thought I’d use it,” I told them before looking sheepishly at the floor. “I don’t really actually totally know how to use all the equipment. I was just gonna use a treadmill or something.”

                “Brah, we got you covered,” Reiner assured me energetically. “We know just about everything.”

               

* * *

                 If I had known that “just about everything” had meant that Reiner and Bert would put me through the agony of a two hour work out, I would have left before I’d even started. It’s not that I had lifted an immense amount of weight or done a million reps, but I did do a little bit of everything. And there was A LOT of everything.

                 I limped back to my dorm room and found Armin at the kitchen table eating a sandwich. I don’t know if I never bothered to notice Armin’s eating habits or if he was just particularly hungry, but the sandwich was huge. It had at least four pieces of bread, about six different kinds of cheese, nine to ten kinds of meat, and two layers each of lettuce, tomato, cucumber, pickles, red, yellow, and green peppers, and onions. On top of all that was mayo, mustard, honey mustard, vinegar, salt, pepper, and crushed garlic.

                “You hungry or something?” I asked sarcastically.

                “Yeah, I missed breakfast because my errands took longer than I thought, and then I had to study, and then Mikasa called because Eren had missed his bus and-“

                “Dude, chill,” I cut him off. “I get it, you were busy.”

                “Are you okay?” Armin turned his gaze from the sandwich to me. “You seem a little edgy.”

                “Yeah, I’m fine,” I waved his comment away. “I just got back from the gym. Reiner and Bert ran me ragged.”

                “Ohhhh,” Armin’s eyes widened like he knew exactly what I was saying. There was a hint of fear in them. I decided not to ask.

                “Also don’t remember anything from the party,” I said hesitantly. “Do I want to know?”

                “You threw up,” Armin said plainly.

                “Okay, yes,” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “That’s the only thing I remember.”

                “You helped me split up a fight between Jean and Eren,” Armin said before taking a tremendous bite of sandwich.

                “Why were they fighting?”

                “Buhcush yuhan jun vur kushin.”

                “What?” I asked. It took Armin a solid minute to finish his bite.

                “Because you and Jean were kissing,” he said, this time infinitely clearer.

                “WHAT?”

                “Yeah,” Armin took another bite, though this time it was a lot smaller.

                “What?!”

                “Mmmhmmm,” he hummed, nodding.

                “What?”

                “Marco, you never cease to amaze me with your vocabulary,” Arm said.

                “Are you serious?” I asked.

                “Yeah, I mean it’s so extensive and broad, I can only dream of having a word bank like yours.”

                “No, I mean about me and Jean kissing,” I said.

                “Yes, Marco, you and Jean actually kissed,” Armin said, trying not to smile. “This caused Eren to get mad and accuse Jean of forcing himself on you. And then Jean tried to ignore him, which made Eren even angrier, leading him to punching Jean in the face. It was at this point where I stepped in and made sure Eren didn’t do anything else stupid, but then Jean punched Eren in the face, which was when you stepped in and stopped Jean…” Armin trailed off. “It was just sort of a shitstorm of nothing. Not even a big fight. Not for a good reason.”

                “Hey, whoa,” I put my hands it a timeout position. “I think Jean kissing me is a pretty good reason for a fight.”

                “Really?” Armin asked like he was tired of hearing me say the same things over and over again. “Marco, when are you gonna admit it?”

                “Admit what?”

                “That you like Jean!”

                “What?! I don’t like Jean.”

                “Literally everyone except for Eren can tell!”

                “Oh come off it, Armin.”

                “Eren is like the stupidest person ever!”

                “Armin, I don’t like Jean!”

                “Yes, you fucking do!” Armin yelled, slamming a fist into the middle of his half-eaten sandwich. We both went silent. Armin never yelled. He never swore. He never destroyed food. Armin was always the calm, cool, collected one.

                “Hey Armin?” I asked tentatively.

                “Yeah?” Armin replied in a tired voice.

                “Is everything alright?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Okay,” I decided to drop it, even though everything obviously wasn’t alright. “I’m gonna go do some homework. I’m here if you need to talk.”

                “Thanks.”


	6. Beating the Christmas rush... almost.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco is alone for the holidays and he decided to go buy some decorations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg I'm so sorry that I've taken this long to update it. I've just been having a huge block and really unsure of where I wanted to take this. And like now I sorta know where i'm going with the story, but this is also kind of a filler chapter, so sorry for that. I'm hoping to start writing more frequently and with better plots and stuff. Thank you if you're still waiting for chapters and stuff, you guys are the bomb. Also please let me know if you guys find any typos or spelling/grammar issues!

* * *

 

A month and a half had passed without any major hitches since Armin’s outburst in the kitchen. I did my best to avoid Jean Kirstein in any way possible including conversation, gossip, physical proximity, thinking, breathing, etc. Thankfully, everyone soon forgot about the party at Reiner and Bert’s house, since there’s a party every weekend for one reason or another (Reiner would only host about half of those). It was now winter break, and both my roommates would be going home for the three weeks we had off.

I, on the other hand, would not. Transition can be difficult for me, so my parents and I had decided that staying in one place for at least a year would be easier than coming and going to and from home and college. I wasn’t bitter or anything, but it would certainly be lonely. It would also be nice and quiet. Armin, Eren, and I would play video games which would lead to arguments and yelling. More than once, the RA of our floor would have to come and tell us to shut up. And so with this allotted time of quiet serenity, I would be studying my heart out. I had flunked on my AP bio med test, and despite Professor Levi being the scariest man on earth, he allowed me to retake it the day we got back from break.

But I had time. I spent my days meandering around campus and stopping to talk to various acquaintances. It had started snowing about a week and a half ago, so everything was covered in a soft blanket of white. I wasn’t able to eat out for every meal, so I started off the break with some grocery shopping. I came home with four boxes of poptarts, seven packets of top ramen, a 10 pack of microwavable popcorn, and lots of Gatorade. My parents would probably be disappointed in me. But they weren’t here. All throughout break I could feel myself gaining fat. I started going to the gym in the mornings before most people arrived to use the treadmills and burn some fat via cardio. By the time the first week of break was finished, I had a pretty good routine.

I still hadn’t started studying though. But that was okay; I still had two weeks, right?

* * *

 

With that in mind, the week of Christmas I went out to buy a Christmas tree and some decorations. I found a fake tree at Ikea that was just the right size (not too big, not too small, and easy enough to put together by myself), along with some Avengers themed ornaments. While I was there I grabbed some garland and tinsel. And that’s when I remembered that I didn’t have a car and would have to carry this all by myself on the bus home.

It was a hassle getting on the bus. It was fairly crowded with other people doing Christmas shopping, and I struggled to find a seat. About halfway through the ride home, an old man boarded. I looked around. There weren’t any open seats.

“Excuse me, sir,” I called to him. He turned to look at me. “You can have this seat.” I stood up and grabbed the handle nearest to me.

“Oh, thank you,” the old man said with his croaky voice. With his trifocal glasses on he looked like a surprised owl. He sat down with a shaky body and put his cane across his lap. “What’re you up to today, boy?”

“I was just buying some Christmas decorations,” I smiled down at him. “It’s the first time my parents haven’t been around to help,” I added sheepishly.

“Oh man, I remember that feeling,” he nodded. “It’s almost scary, not having parents to do stuff for you.”

“Yeah, especially cooking,” I laughed. I was glad that he also laughed. Sometimes people just don’t find your attempts at humor funny and then everything becomes very awkward.

“What’s your name, boy?” he asked me.

“I’m Marco,” I replied. He shook my hand firmly.

“You can call me Denny,” he said.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Denny,” I smiled cheerfully. Something about the holiday spirit just made everything better, even standing on a crowded bus with a big-ish box and a few bags.

“Are you from around here, Marco?”

“No, I go to college at Trost University,” I explained. “I was born in Sina, lived there my whole life until now.”

“You got a girlfriend back home?” Denny inquired.

“Uh.. no, sir,” I stammered a bit. “I don’t really swing that way most of the time.”

“You got a boyfriend back home?”

“Ha, no sir,” I said more definitely. _Thank god he isn’t one of those judgmental old people_ , I thought.

“I’ve got a grandson about your age,” Denny said. “He came out several years ago, back when he was in high school. His parents didn’t react well, so he came to live with me. It was convenient that I only lived twenty minutes away. He could still go to the same school and everything.”

“That’s very nice of you,” I told him. “Don’t take this personally, but a lot of the older generation seem to have issues with change and sexuality and what have you.”

“No offense taken, Marco,” he smiled up at me. “You know, I think you’d like my grandson. He can be sort of a numskull, but he’s always had good intentions in everything he does, like you.”

“Are you calling me a numskull, sir?” I joked.

“All you young’uns are numskulls in my opinion,” Denny joked back. The bus slowed, and Denny stood up. “Well, Marco, it’s been a pleasure talking to you, but this is my stop.”

“I enjoyed our talk too,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve liked talking to someone this much in like four months.”

“Oh, no need to flatter me, son,” Denny laughed. “But maybe you’ll run into my grandson at your school, he goes to Trost university as well.”

“Really? What’s his name?” I raised my eyebrows. I doubted I knew the kid, or would ever run into him; the campus was huge.

“Jean Kirstein,” Denny replied. With that, he walked off the bus.


End file.
